


So Stay

by von_bats



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Getting Back Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Canon, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_bats/pseuds/von_bats
Summary: "Oikawa Tooru considered himself to be many things; attractive, observant, talented, utterly charming, attentive and optimistic, but an idiot was not one of those. Until now, that is."Nothing brings family, friends and ex-boyfriends together like a wedding does





	So Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to both [Tasha](https://twitter.com/saruhiko_bb) and [Erica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAmoebasquid/pseuds/SilverAmoebasquid) for being amazing betas! ❤

There’s this feeling you get when you think you’ve lost your chance at true love, lost the very last chance to be with that one person you just  _ know  _ you’re meant to be with. The one who forever got away.

It’s a twisting in your gut as your heart drops to your stomach. Choking back the feeling of bile rising in your throat, sickly and burning as it climbs higher and higher. It’s a feeling Oikawa Tooru should be used to by now. One that’s haunted him like a bad dream for years now. Except he’s not used to it, and it hits him more often than not as time is too busy tick-tick-ticking away, like a loud, overbearing clock. 

The feeling sneaks up on him at every sporadic, blunt and way too formal text message from someone he’s known basically his entire life ( _ had  _ his own life with, warm and comforting, and settled down within Tokyo city, but well things change, don’t they?), every social media update of how the other’s life is going as they travel the world, small snapshots uploaded of cities, mountains and landscapes galore. 

But it’ll never hit Oikawa as badly as it does the morning he finds himself reading his mail in the genkan of his small, one bedroom apartment that he calls his home. It’s there that he finds a small white card tucked in an envelope addressed to him. It’s beautifully decorated with golden accents and matching glitter that adds a perfect touch of sparkle, and Oikawa just resigns himself to cleaning up the flecks he knows he’ll undoubtedly find across his home for weeks to come. As he reads he doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath, he has a feeling he knows what this is, honestly it was obvious and somehow felt inevitable. But it all feels too soon, and so sudden. The pristine cursive on the card is so delicately written, it’s nothing at all like the familiar chicken scratch he remembers. No, this is so much more elegant and  _ feminine _ .

As his eyes travel lower that he begins to skim over the contents, no longer taking the time to fully read and digest the words, but he sees it, etched into the paper - and seared into his mind forever. That familiar twisting feeling comes back just as Oikawa’s breath leaves him like a punch to his already weakened stomach. 

 

_ ‘Together with their families,  _

_ Iwaizumi & Onzai  _

_ Request the honour of your presence at their wedding.’ _

 

It takes Oikawa a moment to process what he just read, and when he comes back to the reality of the situation, he finds his phone already pressed to his ear and ringing, the invitation lying face down on the genkan floor, loose glitter already stuck to the hand that let the card fall. It takes a couple rings, the sound barely audible over the static in Oikawa’s mind, the thumping of his heart that’s laying deep in his stomach, but the call picks up and he doesn’t wait for a greeting, or offer one himself for that matter.

“He’s getting married!” He blurts unceremoniously. There’s a tired groan from the other end of the line in reply. “Mattsun, wake up! Did you know? You got an invitation too, right?” He’s rambly and maybe a little frantic, but of course he wouldn’t admit to that.

There’s a brief moment, punctuated by a stifled yawn and murmuring from the other side of the line - Hanamaki presumably, wondering why Oikawa would disturb them so early on a blessed day off - but soon Matsukawa’s voice is in his ear, slow and sarcastic. “ _ Well, good morning to you too. _ ” 

Oikawa huffs like a child, pouts like one too, but he’s quick to cut off anything else his sleepy friend might tack on. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.” He sounds wistful, then immediately morphs into suspicion, “Did you? Mattsun, I swear to God, if you or Makki knew and purposely didn’t tell me-” His mind is running a mile a minute, feeling anxious and betrayed from every angle imaginable. 

There’s a shuffle through the phone line just before he’s greeted by Hanamaki’s sleep induced gruff tone, “ _ Oikawa, it’s nine am. Some of us wanted to sleep in a little bit before dealing with the world’s bullshit. What the fuck are you shouting about so early for? _ ”

Oikawa feels guilty before answering, he knows it isn’t fair to unload all of this on his friends. Especially not when both he and Matsukawa had worked six days straight at the hospital and this was finally their day off. He hadn’t meant to call them, honestly, it just happened by reflex, turning to his closest friends for help or advice when he needed it. He certainly hadn’t meant to shout down the line at them either, he really didn’t have an excuse for that. Oikawa took a steadying breath and lowered his voice, “I’m sorry Makki, Mattsun, it’s just-” another deep breath, he couldn’t -  _ didn’t want to _ \- admit it out loud, it made it feel too real, “Iwa-chan- Iwaizumi- he’s getting married…”

There was silence on the other side of the line, it stretched on for a moment, and then another, before Oikawa heard a deep sigh through the phone. Honestly speaking, Oikawa couldn’t tell if it had been Hanamaki, Matsukawa, or both, but soon the former spoke up. “ _ Whose name is on the card, Oikawa? _ ”

“I already told you, Iwaizumi’s. I don’t-”

“ _ No, it’s not. _ ” Hanamaki interrupted, a familiar snort and chuckle echoing from Matsukawa in the background, “ _ Look again. _ ”

“Makki, I really don’t-”

“ _ Read. It. Again. Oikawa. _ ” 

Beneath his strict words, Oikawa could hear the fond amusement in his friend’s voice, and without his better judgement complied to his commands. The last thing he wanted to do was read the invitation again; as far as he cared it could find a permanent home in the trash, despite its elegance and beauty. Nevertheless, he plucked it from its spot on the cold stone floor, and let his gut drop again as he quietly read. 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were silent through the phone Oikawa still held to his ear, the couple finally getting a quick second to enjoy each other’s presence in the early morning after waking.

But there it was, a name nestled within the beautifully written cursive, among glitter and accents, and for what felt like the first time in forever, Oikawa felt like he could breathe again. 

Oikawa Tooru considered himself to be many things; attractive, observant, talented, utterly charming, attentive and optimistic, but an idiot was not one of those things. Until now, that is.

“Iwaizumi,” he breathed.

“Aiko,” Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa finished for him.

“Aiko. Iwaizumi Aiko.”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa’s head was swimming in both thoughts and emotions, his words stuck in his throat as he tried to process the new information. He managed a weak sounding, “Oh…” after more than a long moment.

“Yeah.” Hanamaki echoed back.

“Little Ai-chan is getting married... Not Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice sounded distant, far away in his mind. The tone bordering on shock, rather than surprise or relief. 

Through the phone he heard a drawled, “Yep.”

“I’m an idiot.” He admitted quietly.

“Yes, yes you are.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Matsukawa chuckled again and Oikawa couldn’t even be upset with his friends. 

Again, they fell into silence, just static buzzing between them as it stretched on, but despite that silence Oikawa couldn’t quiet the racing of his heart as it thumped in his ears, or his overwhelmed mind. 

All because Iwaizumi wasn’t getting married. Not the Iwaizumi who mattered to him most anyway. And definitely not to someone named Onzai, not to anyone, but despite the lifting feeling of regret and self-pity, another kind of sickness spread through Oikawa instead. He’d still have to face Iwaizumi. The wedding might be months away, but their families were still close friends and neighbours. Oikawa himself had grown up with the youngest Iwaizumi sibling, what with being almost inseparable with Hajime since the moment their mothers introduced them as mere babies. So realistically, Oikawa knew he couldn’t skip out on the occasion. Had the situation been reversed he also knew Iwaizumi wouldn’t chicken out of going. 

In the back of Oikawa’s mind he secretly hoped Iwaizumi was counting on him being there for the same reason.  

Oikawa promptly pushed that notion to the furthest corner of his mind, he’d dwell on it later. 

 

The call of his name pulled him from his thoughts, Hanamaki’s voice interrupts. “Are you okay?”

He hated lying to his friends, so instead he breathed out a quiet, “I don’t know…”

“I thought you’d be happy? Or at least relieved.”

“I mean, I  _ am _ . I just, I don’t know.” He sighed, his voice coming out smaller, the same tone he always used when they breached the subject of Iwaizumi. “Makki, Mattsun, can I come over?”

“You know you don’t need to ask us.”

“Well, considering I woke you both up on your day off, I thought I’d be less of an ass and ask before storming over.”

“Mm,” Matsukawa hummed, taking the phone from Hanamaki. “He makes a good point there, Hiro.” He punctuated with a yawn, “Give us another hour, okay?”

“An hour? It’s already after nine, Mattsun!”

There was another yawn, “Ah you’re right, we’ll see you at eleven then. Another hour and then some should be just fine.”

 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki's apartment was one of those places that Oikawa just genuinely loved. He always felt safe and welcome between the relaxing and easy atmosphere, amongst the over the top, bordering on excessive decorations his friends had collected over the years together. It felt somewhat bittersweet to Oikawa however, while the collection was fun and eclectic and so very unique to the couple, in a way the photos and trinkets reminded him so much of his old apartment. The one he used to share with Iwaizumi. The cramped, one bedroom home with barely enough space for the two of them to live comfortably, let alone built to house all the crap and junk Oikawa had convinced Iwaizumi that they should hold onto. Old remnants of their former high school life and volleyball team to name but a few, plenty of things that could and probably  _ should _ have stayed at their parent's homes back in Miyagi. But there was a sort of sweet domesticity to holding onto and displaying their photographs and memories together in their little home. 

Except then that moment came when Iwaizumi took what was his and left, moved out, and Oikawa was left with a half empty home and heart. When he couldn't stand the constant reminder of his broken heart, he too packed up all his belongings, his memories, along with the one or two things Iwaizumi must have forgotten, locked the door behind him for the last time and left, never looking back.

But moving forward didn't mean forgetting. That was still an impossible feat for Oikawa, even years later. It wasn't an anomaly for him to end up laying in bed at all hours of the night regretting letting Iwaizumi leave, thinking back on what he’d said at the time, what he  _ should  _ have said so that Iwaizumi would have stayed. Over two years later and it still ate away at Oikawa. He hadn’t even been there the day Iwaizumi had left, knowing how hard it would be to say goodbye, to see him walk out the front door for the last time, Oikawa had spent that night (and the following day) at Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s place feeling like a sniffling burden and utterly pathetic. It certainly wasn’t a time in his life Oikawa was proud of, but his friends had reassured him he was welcome in their home anytime and he was grateful for their friendship, hospitality and more importantly, the fact they didn’t treat him with pity. Understandably, both Matsukawa and Hanamaki had explained how they wouldn’t be picking sides between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, seeing as the four of them had been friends since their first year of high school, and Oikawa thanked them for their maturity with handling the situation. It was relieving to know his friends would be there for him no matter what.

But no matter how much Oikawa thought about and wished he could have changed the past, he knows in his heart that he made the right decision. He and Iwaizumi hadn’t broken up for petty reasons or even for a lack of loving each other anymore, instead, the separation came in the form of their paths in life just needing to split, giving them -  _ Iwaizumi  _ \- new and better opportunities to pursue, and as much as it hurt, Oikawa pushed Iwaizumi to explore them. 

 

At 10:55 later that morning, Oikawa found himself ringing the monotonous doorbell of his friend’s apartment as he waited impatiently outside, foot tapping against the rough ground beneath his feet. After a moment, Matsukawa dressed only in plaid pyjama pants answered the door (his curly hair looking almost impressively more wild than usual) and stepped aside after a quick greeting to allow Oikawa entry. As he passed through the threshold Oikawa slipped his shoes off, following the familiar path behind Matsukawa towards the kitchen where the strong, but the delicate smell of coffee assaulted his senses in the most pleasant way. 

In the kitchen, Hanamaki was already seated and waiting at the room’s small table, toast crumbs sticking to his face in that endearing, messy way. Oikawa walked by him to take the opposing chair, making sure to run his hand along the length of Hanamaki’s shoulders as he greeted him. 

“Morning Makki,” Oikawa said softly, still feeling rather guilty for waking the couple up earlier.

Hanamaki mumbled back a greeting, chewing the last of his breakfast and leaning into Oikawa’s touch before the other was out of reach and began slipping into the seat across from him.

“Coffee is just ready if you want some?” Matsukawa’s question was only out of hospitality, all three men knowing Oikawa would of course have a cup. Or two. 

“French press?” He questioned back already knowing the answer.

Makki laughed low, “Of course,” he replied after swallowing his mouthful. 

Oikawa turned to face Matsukawa, “Can I...” but the man was already placing the glass in front of him before Oikawa could even finish his sentence. 

“Press away, my friend.”

Oikawa hissed out a pleased ‘ _ yes _ ’, as he slowly pushed the metal sieve down, making the coffee grounds gradually sink to the bottom. “It’s just so satisfying,” he confessed with an exaggerated wave of his hand after the plunger finally came to a stop and he deemed the coffee perfect. 

Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa hummed in response, the latter finally taking his seat beside his boyfriend along with a steaming mug of tea. While Matsukawa prefered tea, Hanamaki pushed his mug forward so Oikawa could fill it with what he so eloquently called, ‘ _ the nectar of the morning gods _ ’.

Oikawa watched happily as his friends inched closer to each other, just as he’d seen for years, his excitement and joy for his friend’s relationship never having diminished, not after all the years they’d been together. Unlike Iwaizumi and himself, Hanamaki and Matsukawa had started dating during high school. Starting out as nothing more than friends who just ‘helped each other out,’ or well, that was until they began to develop feelings for each other and realised that they wanted more than to just fool around with no strings attached. And as jealous as it made Oikawa about his failed relationship, his friends were so in love and he couldn’t have been happier for them. They were each other’s best friend, lover and probably soulmate. They were everything Oikawa thought he and Iwaizumi were.

(They were everything Oikawa and Iwaizumi were not.) 

Regardless, Oikawa took his time to broach the subject of the wedding despite it essentially being the reason behind his impromptu morning visit. He knows Matsukawa and Hanamaki are waiting for him to bring it up through their quick, sidelong glances at one another that they think Oikawa doesn’t notice. He does, of course. Oikawa always notices everything, whether or not he pretends to is another thing altogether. But being the amazing friend that he is, Oikawa lets the couple finish their breakfast in the ever comfortable atmosphere surrounding the trio. 

Oikawa likes to think he has more tack than to just blurt things out, but he never did - probably never will - have any when it came to all things Iwaizumi, so when he finally thought to bring up the subject he’d been dreading, his words come out all too quickly to be casual, and definitely more like a rushed squawk. 

“You guys are going to the wedding, right?”

This time the look Matsukawa and Hanamaki share isn’t as hidden, nor is it intended to be, and while their expressions aren’t one of pity, there’s something clouding both of their faces that Oikawa isn’t sure he actually wants to know the meaning behind. 

“We are, yeah,” Hanamaki tells him, and Oikawa feels relieved internally, but only momentarily because soon the other is speaking again and dashing his dreams as he continues. “But we only got an invite to the afters.”

“Yeah, sorry man,” Matsukawa chimes in. “We know Aiko, but we’re not as close as you are to her or the rest of the family.” He explains.

It hit’s Oikawa then; sympathy, that’s what’s eating away at his friends. And it’s completely understandable really, had it not been himself in this situation Oikawa would have probably felt the same way to whoever the poor bastard in his place was. 

Except it was himself, and honestly it was fucking shit.

“Oh…” he says, but it comes out more like a sigh and he hates it. “Well it’s okay. That’s fine.” 

“You know we’d go to the whole thing if we could, but-”

“No really, it’s fine!” He tries to reassure. “I’m a grown ass man, I can deal with seeing my ex,” a hard gulp, “at his sister’s wedding without you guys as a buffer. It’s not a big deal.” 

But it is, and all three of them know it.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi haven’t seen each other in over two years and now the first time they absolutely  _ have  _ to face each other is at a deeply personal and intimate occasion. Wonderful. Fantastic.

Not to mention that now Oikawa has to deal with the extra stress of having to look totally phenomenal, but good lord that of course means Iwaizumi will undoubtedly be too. Oikawa always was extremely weak for Iwaizumi in formal wear, whether it was a mere dress shirt and slacks for work, or a full suit. There was just something about a formal Iwaizumi that set Oikawa’s pulse racing with excitement and adoration. Not to mention  _ pride _ . That was  _ his  _ boyfriend, wearing the outfit  _ Oikawa  _ had picked out for him, who was turning heads, getting second and even third glances. Men and women alike could look and talk and even flirt with Iwaizumi, but that didn’t matter to Oikawa because Iwaizumi only had eyes for him, and would be going home with  _ him _ . Iwaizumi  _ always _ went home with Oikawa. 

It was always Oikawa who would stumble in the door with Iwaizumi, locking lips and laughing to one another. It was always Oikawa who would help peel those tight, perfectly fitting clothes from Iwaizumi’s warm, firm body. The pair too lost in each other to care about the crumpled pile of clothing laying on the floor and collecting creases until they were too hot, too sweaty, too sated and so, so at home in the other’s embrace. 

Except Iwaizumi wouldn’t be going home with Oikawa this time, and it wouldn’t be him helping Iwaizumi out of his suit, and it certainly wouldn’t be him crying out Iwaizumi’s name while being fucked into their shared mattress, while the other looked at him with nothing but pure lust and complete and utter affection for the man he loved. 

No, for the first time in many, many years, Oikawa would be one of those people who only got to look and appreciate Iwaizumi Hajime for the heartstopping man that he truly was. 

Oikawa hadn’t meant to get so lost in his thoughts, hadn’t meant for his emotional mask to crack, for his true feelings to be out there for both his friends to see. But it had, and not for the first time, Oikawa sighed and let his perfect persona disintegrate until there was nothing left but the exhaustion he really felt. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this.” He admitted, watching Hanamaki and Matsukawa nod with understanding. “I don’t know how to face him. God, I don’t even know how to talk to him anymore. Everything has changed from when we were just friends, we’re not even those same people anymore.”

With a rueful smile Matsukawa spoke up, “I don’t think you’ve changed all that much, or as much as you think you have.”

“Yeah, definitely. And I know for a fact Iwaizumi hasn’t either, seriously, he’s exactly the same as when I first met you both back in high school.” Hanamaki offered. 

“I don’t know…” Slumping onto the table, Oikawa sighed again, resting his head on half folded arms as he mindlessly stirred his cooling coffee. 

Hanamaki reached across the table, resting his hand on Oikawa’s arm in a way Oikawa knew was meant to be reassuring. “I think once you talk to him you’ll realise Iwaizumi hasn’t changed, he’s still your best friend after all this time.”

Oikawa couldn’t help the bitter laugh that slipped passed his lips at Hanamaki’s comment. “Some ‘best friend’ he is, I can’t even remember the last time we spoke, the last time he called or even tried to reach out.” His words were quiet, slowly picking up steam as he became more and more frustrated and worked up. “Did you know he came back to Tokyo last month for a while?” Oikawa spat, “He was here almost a week, went to our old favourite ramen shop in Tokyo station, to the tiny family owned donburi place by our old apartment. Not once did he try to reach out, I only know because it popped up on my news feed! So no, I don’t think I’ll realise we’re still best friends, since we’re so obviously not.” 

When Oikawa finally looked up to meet his friend’s eyes he found he couldn’t, but not through any fault of his own, both Hanamaki and Matsukawa cast their gaze down to the table, their silence all too telling.

“You knew?” Oikawa said incredulously. “You both knew, and you didn’t tell me?” His voice was quiet once again, he wanted to be angry but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. Truthfully, he was just tired. 

“We wanted to, honestly.” 

“Did you see him?” He asked, but Oikawa already knew the answer.

“He asked us not to tell you,” Matsukawa replied instead. “He wanted to see you though, it was pretty obvious. He asked about you a lot too, me and Hiro could barely get a word in to ask about his travels.”

“He’s doing well, by the way, if you were wondering.” Hanamaki adds. 

“I wasn’t.”  _ He was.  _ “I don’t care how he is.”  _ He did. _

“Oikawa,” both his friend’s murmur, they know him too well.

“Ugh,  _ I know. _ ” He whines back. 

There’s a low chuckle and Oikawa finds himself meeting Matsukawa’s eyes finally. “I’ve never seen your mood flip flop so much over something that wasn’t Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa scoffs and pouts, he knows he’s being a brat and he knows that’s Matsukawa’s way of pointing it out. “I know,” he repeats. “I’m sorry, I just…” Oikawa slumps against the table again, his cheek laying flat against the wooden surface, one hand clenched into a fist by his head. “I just wish I didn’t still miss him.” 

It comes out as a whisper, one he didn’t really care whether or not the others had heard, but they do, and regardless, Oikawa knows they know anyway. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation after all. But just like the time before this, and the time before that, his friend’s voice - Hanamaki this time around - is soft and wistful, and if Oikawa had looked up to see the genuine expression on his face, maybe he might have been inclined to believe his words, but he didn’t, and he still doesn’t believe him. “He misses you too.”

Oikawa just hums in acknowledgement at the words before picking himself back up, phoney smile and mask solidly back in place. “So, did Mattsun tell you about the new wing the hospital is getting?” Oikawa starts, changing and steering the subject as far away from Iwaizumi or the wedding as possible. 

There’s no way Iwaizumi would miss him, it’d be absurd to even hope or dream about it. 

And yet a fraction of Oikawa’s mind holds onto Hanamaki’s words, holds on and lets the silent murmur of ‘ _ what if _ ’ drift ever slowly through his thoughts.

 

* * *

  
  


Finding the perfect suit for the occasion shouldn’t have been this difficult. 

Blue, black, grey, or maybe navy?

Oikawa knew he looked good in any colour, any style, any cut. But this wasn’t just another work function, not your run of the mill fundraiser where he simply needed to dress up, look sharp, stunning, and schmooze board members and other wealthy financial contributors to a new hospital wing, or the like. And while Oikawa had more suits than the average man should or would possess, he knew none of the pieces in his collection would do him justice for the wedding. He needed something utterly  _ perfect.  _

So that meant black was probably out of the running altogether. Black was sleek, but too formal, granted a wedding  _ was  _ a formal occasion, but the shade was just too universal, practically bordering on  _ bland _ . Oikawa Tooru certainly wasn’t bland, that’s for sure. Besides, everyone and their father (literally) would wear black to the wedding. Nope, just not good enough. 

Navy was a fair contender however, dark and elegant as always. It wasn’t black, close but not close enough, definitely more eye catching and flattering against his pale skin tone. But of course, navy had its flaws too, mainly in its upper hand against black; its colour. Navy was too out of season for a spring wedding, had it been Autumn or even Winter it would have been the best choice. 

Everything felt like he had too many choices, and not enough at the same time.

If he were being honest, Oikawa was beginning to find the whole ordeal tedious. Every suit he tried was  _ too this _ ,  _ too that _ . He knew he couldn’t help but nitpick things, old habits die hard and all that jazz, but he was at the point where he’d tried on more garments than he was sure he even owned, and that was both parts impressive and definitely just excessive. 

However, Oikawa was petty. So stopping his search, or God forbid, settling for anything less than what he deemed perfection was out of the question entirely. Sheer spite and determination kept him going, much like a lot of things in life, but he was  _ going _ to find a suit that would make him stand out, turn more than just a few heads, if it was the last thing he was ever going to do - and it better damn not be, he had people to impress after all. More importantly though, he needed to show off, and maybe rub Iwaizumi’s nose in just how good, no,  _ amazing _ he looked. He wanted to make Iwaizumi jealous, Oikawa couldn’t deny that. He wanted Iwaizumi’s eyes on him, wanted to see his expression as hazel eyes rake over his body with pure jealousy, regret, longing, or anything so long as it isn’t distaste or disdain. He wanted Iwaizumi to see him and remember all good times they had together, even before they began dating, back when they were six years old, with scraped knees, mud on their clothes and cheeks, and a jar full of bugs they’d release at the end of their day, back when they were still best friends and hung out, or when they still talked even. Oikawa wanted to give Iwaizumi all the bittersweet memories he still hung on to, still thought about as if they were a photograph of a time long before the bullshit of adult life hit them and ruined their relationship, their friendship. It was going to take a while, but Oikawa was determined to prove he was doing well, that he was fine despite everything. He didn’t need Iwaizumi. Didn’t need his Iwa-chan. 

Oikawa Tooru was a hypocrite. 

 

It’s funny how time keeps tick-tick-ticking away, how life rolls on with or without you. Time waits for no one, so why should it wait for Oikawa to get his shit together, to be emotionally and physically ready to face this hurdle life has decided to throw at him, to place in his path. Time waits for no one, especially not for Oikawa. 

He hadn’t planned to go to the rehearsal dinner, had assumed it was more of a  _ friends and family  _ event pre-wedding, that’s what it usually was, right? Well, apparently not for the Iwaizumi family, and by circumstance, the Onzai family. But there he was, feet firmly planted outside the Iwaizumi’s family home, front door wide open and seeming anything but welcoming to Oikawa, even though he’d crossed its threshold as much as he had his own family home over the years. 

Oikawa thought he’d have a quiet night in with his parents, catching up and reminiscing, after his close to four hour drive back to Miyagi, but no, of course not, how foolish of him to think anything about this weekend would be simple for him. When he arrived just before eight in the evening, it was to an empty house, no over the top greeting from his mother, no warm smiles or embraces from the round and petite woman, no sturdy pat to his shoulder from his greying father. Instead, Oikawa trudged into the house, slipping out of his shoes and leaving them, along with his luggage and garment bag in the familiar genkan. Whenever Oikawa came back to his family home he was always hit with a wave of nostalgia that brought him back to times long since passed of his childhood through to his teen years in high school, the familiar smell of incense and candles that his mother would always burn, still there to this day, the faint smell of dinner she’d cooked that day lingering in the air as he walked through his home, peering into each room downstairs to make sure no one actually was home. It wasn’t until Oikawa stopped in the kitchen that he saw the wooden gift box sitting on the counter, a note left laying beside it addressed to himself.

_ ‘Tooru, bring this sake with you to the Iwaizumi’s. We’re all expecting you, so you can’t flake out! See you then!’ _

Even the tiny row of “ _ xxx” _ ’s from his mother couldn’t stop the pout that formed on Oikawa’s face. He felt tricked, cheated by his own parents. After bracing his weight against the counter, lowering his head and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Oikawa straightened up and accepted his fate. 

And that’s how he found himself still rooted outside what was once his second home, still looking a little more uninviting than it usually always had. Chatter and laughter spilled from the open door, the faint thrum of music a smooth backing to what seemed to be nothing but happiness within the home. Oikawa hadn’t even reached the entryway and he could already smell the sweet, intoxicating scent that was Iwaizumi-san’s famous curry, the smell instantly making his mouth water just from thinking about it. It’d been years since he’d had the real deal, the OG, authentic Iwaizumi family recipe curry. Back in Tokyo, Oikawa had convinced Iwaizumi to make it a handful of times, but it was never as good as  _ Auntie’s _ , it was as if she had her own secret ingredient, something distinct that made her dish stand out from when anyone else tried to make it. And if such a thing  _ did  _ exist, she certainly wasn’t letting on about it. Maybe it was just a Mother’s Touch. Or maybe Oikawa was a lot more hungry than he first thought.

It was that sweet aroma (and his stomach) that had Oikawa swiftly making his entrance. Slipping quietly through the open doorway and past the threshold he was so used to, unconsciously avoiding that one stone slab that sat higher than the rest, the one he’d stumbled over multiple times as a child and teen who was all too eager to annoy his best friend in his home. He hadn’t even managed to slip out of his shoes before the shrill - in the nicest of ways - call of “Tooru-chan!” made its way to Oikawa’s ears.

This was it, his moment to shine and put to use everything he’d practised since the morning he’d gotten the wedding invitation. Oikawa broke out his award winning smile, and dialled it up a few hundred watts, ready to give that charming smile that made women of all ages swoon. It was the kind of expression that few people - he could count them on one hand - could differentiate between real or fake. He quickly discarded his shoes into a corner of the genkan before straightening up and letting the full force of Iwaizumi-san hit him without a beat. His laugh was a low, steady chuckle as he wrapped his arms around the stocky woman, “It’s nice to see you too, Iwaizumi-san.” It wasn’t a lie.

As she let Oikawa free from a vice like grip, she playfully slapped his arm in mock offence, “Iwaizumi-san? Really now Tooru?” She huffed, “Just because my idiot son broke your heart, you revert back to being four years old and calling me ‘ _ Iwaizumi-san’  _ like it’s the first time we met? Now that just won’t do, you hear me?”

Mildly taken aback, Oikawa’s eyes widened, he’d expected their breakup to come up eventually, but definitely not so soon, or so sudden. It was slightly awkward, but he knew Iwaizumi’s mother, Satomi, didn’t mean any harm by it, it was purely just her outspoken and to-the-point personality. At least Oikawa had the sense to act indifferent to her statement.

“Of course,  _ Auntie. _ ” he smiled down at her as he watched her eyes brighten at the familiar greeting. “But really, there’s no need for any ill will against your ‘idiot son’, it was entirely mutual.”

“Mutual idiocy, maybe.” Satomi laughed and embraced Oikawa once more, “It really is great to see you.” She said, her voice soft and expressive in a way only a mother could. She really was like a second mother to Oikawa, she’d gone above and beyond to prove it over the years. 

(From picking both Hajime, Aiko and himself up from daycare or elementary school whenever Oikawa’s parents were working late, to baking his favourite snack as a special birthday treat up until he and Iwaizumi flew-the-coop and moved to Tokyo for university, and all the times in between, like small little things he felt as if he couldn’t talk to his own mother or older sister about. No matter what it was, Iwaizumi Satomi was always there morning, noon or night with tea and strong arms ready to wrap around any of her children, blood related or not. Satomi and Oikawa’s own mother had been best friend’s since University, the pair had even lived together before either had decided to get married and settle down, so the closeness between the two mothers was bound to rub off on their children.)

Again Oikawa hugged her back; he was always extremely fond of Iwaizumi’s mother. Much like his own, she was kind and caring, always warm and welcoming, a perfect mother, but Satomi was also strong and independent, both physically and mentally. Even now, Oikawa was enamoured by how glamorous and fit she still was. There was no way someone could mistake her for anyone but Iwaizumi’s mother. 

“It really is. Now, let me get a good look at you.” He said as he broke away, holding Satomi’s hands at arm’s length so he could take in the sight of the older woman. Oikawa waited until she was almost flustered at all the attention he was giving her, before letting out a low whistle, “Still as beautiful as that fateful first day we met,” he told her, his smile growing into a flirtatious smirk as the older woman raised her voice in a steady laugh.

“Will you ever give up flirting with my wife, Tooru-kun?” 

A second voice drifted into the genkan, followed by the shorter male that was Iwaizumi’s father. 

“Never,” he admitted easily, letting go of the soft, delicate hands to take Iwaizumi’s father’s in a sturdy handshake. 

“I assumed as much.” He said with a feigned sigh, his mouth crooking into a grin so reminiscent of his son.

As Oikawa exchanged more pleasantries, teasing and stories with Iwaizumi’s parents, he forgot how natural it all came to him, how easy talking with them was, how  _ normal  _ it all was, and eventually Oikawa’s fake smile and expressions blurred into something a lot more genuine. 

 

Oikawa was always quite talented when it came to exchanging pleasantries with people, be it friends, family, or even strangers. It was as if people were just drawn to his natural charisma. (Like a moth to a burning flame, Oikawa was the blinding light that graciously shone down on the people who dared to get his attention.) When it came to Iwaizumi’s family however, they were an odd mixture of all three. 

Floating through the house, he recognised a few of Iwaizumi’s extended family from their friendship and relationship over the years. His great aunt on his mother’s side, his second cousin who always had just a little too much beer and sake to drink and would end up drunk at every family occasion, his grandmother, heavily aged but as feisty as she’d been in her twenties, or so the stories say. So while Oikawa may have only recognised a handful of guests attending the party here and there, that certainly didn’t mean they didn’t recognise him. Apparently stories had surfaced through the years of the great Oikawa Tooru, volleyball player turned head sports physiotherapist extraordinaire, spread through word of mouth by none other than Iwaizumi Satomi; a mother in no way shy of bragging about her only son’s partner, a man she too was proud of. And while she hadn’t been exactly  _ wrong,  _ she certainly hadn’t been selling Oikawa short either.  

But as well trained in schmoozing as Oikawa was, the poor young man could barely take two steps away from another relative, friend of the family, or  _ whoever,  _ without being stopped yet again by someone new. Which is fine, of course, Oikawa didn’t mind really, he could talk all day and impressive yet another set of cousins about his degree or job, but during his stay at the party he had yet to find his own parents - or food - the real reason he was even there at that moment. Instead, Oikawa persevered through all their small talk and lively conversations, he brushed over his relationship, or lack thereof with Iwaizumi with a practised ease at this stage (quite literally). He accepted their belated apologies and condolences with a quick wave of his hand and a smile that was just as phoney as the slightly lopsided toupée Iwaizumi’s uncle was currently wearing.

It took some time, but eventually Oikawa discovered his parents, tucked nicely into a corner of the living room and chatting away to some of their neighbours who had also dragged themselves from the comfort of their homes to Satomi’s soiree. Finally Oikawa got the welcome home he’d craved all day, with his mother wrapping her arms around him tightly, delighted to have her baby back, and his father chastising his wife because, “He’s twenty-five Nozomi, he stopped being your baby a long time ago.” But of course, no matter their age, a mother’s baby will  _ always _ be their baby, even if that baby is now twenty-five and towering over his mother by quite a few inches. So her joy is justified. 

 

It’s only a short while later when Oikawa is free of everyone’s attention and is sneaking his second portion of Satomi’s curry that he hears his name being called,  _ sung _ , almost like deja vu, but like mother, like daughter, and Aiko’s pleased squeal is much like Satomi’s from earlier, but her sweet ring of “Tooru-nii!” is as welcoming as it always had been throughout their childhood. 

There’s a reason he was dubbed Tooru- _ nii  _ rather than Tooru- _ chan _ . While Iwaizumi was always his favourite: his best friend turned lover, Aiko was truly like a sister to Oikawa. Granted, Oikawa did in fact already  _ have _ a sister of his own, but their massive ten year age gap made her feel more like an aunt than a sister, and while they got along now that they’re - he’s - older, their relationship when Oikawa was a child was strained. 

Oikawa had always wanted a younger sibling, someone he could look out for and protect, and before his sister eventually had Takeru, his nephew, Aiko was like a younger sister to him. Much to Iwaizumi’s feigned annoyance and all the ‘ _ You’re going to end up spoiling her, Shittykawa! _ ’s. Oikawa still doesn’t know if those were purely out of jealousy, and if so, jealous of  _ who _ .

It had been a few years since Oikawa had last seen Iwaizumi Aiko. While he and Hajime had moved to Tokyo after graduating high school, Aiko had decided to head further north, attending university before officially settling down in Hokkaido. According to Iwaizumi, his sister was so swamped with both uni and work that she couldn’t make it back for the holidays whenever they’d been visiting Miyagi too. It was understandable, Oikawa knew how crazy it could be from experience, missing both holidays and birthdays on occasion all because he couldn’t get the time off work, etcetera. 

Oikawa knew she was growing up; time passing was inevitable, people grow and age, and Aiko was no exception. But time had been good to her, Oikawa had to admit. Seeing her now, there was no mistaking her for anyone else, so similar, yet surrounded and shrouded in subtle differences, some Oikawa found hard to even identify. There was no mistaking her beauty however, skin so smooth and the faintest shade lighter than Iwaizumi’s, her hair gleaming under the kitchen lights, soft waves rolling over petite shoulders, as deep and rich in colour as Oikawa remembered it to be. When familiar green eyes meet his, Aiko rounds the counter he’d been occupying, her face breaking out into a million watt smile, matching Oikawa’s own.

He’s not too sure whether he’s tackled into a hug, or if he’s the one doing the tackling, regardless, their bodies collide and Oikawa has to physically stop himself from wheezing from the force of the impact. But then he hears the sweet lilt of her own breathing as it turns into laughter, the hot puff of breath by his ear, and oh, he’s laughing too it seems.

In the back of his mind, part of Oikawa feels relieved, like he’s finally,  _ finally  _ come home. Except for that annoying little (it’s anything but, it’s loud and obnoxious and forever pestering him) voice in his head that’s telling him he’s wrong, all because Iwaizumi isn’t there with them - with  _ him _ \- that things -  _ his life _ \- isn’t complete without his best friend.

“Look at you,” Oikawa says, once he’s managed to unwrap himself from his old friend. It comes out almost breathless, but so sincere. “You’re beautiful, Ai-chan.  _ Stunning _ .” He means it, she really is. 

Had it not been for the whole ‘ _ I’m perpetually in love with someone who doesn’t really give a shit about me anymore,’  _ thing that haunts Oikawa, and well, being gay too, of course, Iwaizumi Aiko is definitely the kind of person who would have been just Oikawa’s type. Ambitious, driven, intelligent, kind, caring and creative, the definition of a well rounded human being. She was someone to be envied,  _ should _ be envied. 

She’s still smiling when she gives Oikawa an exaggerated wink and says cooly, with a voice as soft as velvet and honey, “I learned from the best,” and Oikawa can’t help but snort a little laugh, taken aback almost. He’d forgotten just how cheeky Aiko could be, but he only has himself to blame really, who else could she have picked it up from after all? 

With the excitement of their reunion, Oikawa hadn’t quite noticed the person trailing behind Aiko, and as if suddenly remembering herself, the latter spun around and grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him forward while simultaneously wrapping herself around the captured appendage, all in two seconds flat. The man stumbles ever so slightly but carefully catches himself, and Oikawa has a sneaking suspicion that he’s used to those kinds of fast paced actions, if his steady feet and sideways grin directed towards Aiko are anything to go by. 

Aiko says nothing but beams at her husband-to-be and he doesn’t hesitate, extending his right hand and meeting Oikawa’s own in a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Onzai Ichiro.” He introduces, and Oikawa breathes a silent sigh of relief because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the man’s given name he’d read on the wedding invitation all those months ago. 

Turning up his charm, Oikawa matches Onzai’s grin, sizing him up. He’s tall, taller than Aiko, but not Oikawa himself, with a slender build and a bashful, almost demure air about him. Despite the differences Oikawa can pick out between the happy couple, they look good together, side by side and in love. He’s happy for them, for Aiko, but that doesn’t stop the sting of jealousy and longing that’s attacking his insides involuntarily. Though through his own pain his reply comes easy, a playful, “The pleasure is all mine,” as he takes a step back to lean against the kitchen counter, naturally breaking their handshake. “It’s so nice to finally meet the man who stole my sweet, little innocent Ai-chan’s heart.” 

Oikawa gets just the reaction he was after, Onzai’s cheeks begin tinting a bright scarlet as he stammers a, “Uhm, well, you see...” as well as the look on Aiko’s face which is  _ priceless _ , and Oikawa knows if he’d been any closer to her, she’d have slapped or nudged him in playful embarrassment. 

 

The night continues on, the house lively with both chatter, laughter and singing from a few guests who hadn’t managed to hold their alcohol as well as some others have. Oikawa finds himself blending and mixing well with everyone there, and it’s no surprise really, his aura had always been somewhat magnetic, drawing people to him, and everyone was just dying to know how the former high school volleyball star had adjusted to life off the court. Oikawa would smile and explain how happy he was working in one of Tokyo’s best hospitals, how he was looked at as one of the city’s most promising sports physiotherapists. (He had to do himself justice after all, especially after the stories Satomi had apparently already told everyone.) It wasn’t a lie, not entirely, that he told about not missing volleyball, the sport would always hold a special place in his heart, and of course his memories, but Oikawa was in a better place without it in his life right now. Finally retiring from volleyball gave his knee time to fully recover and it was almost as good as new, and deep down he knew it was for the best. 

Amongst the crowds of rowdy people all squeezed into the small family home, Oikawa barely had a moment to contemplate on what was missing, it floated through his mind once or twice, but with all the excitement, off it would drift again on a wave of laughter between old friends. It should have been obvious, what with Iwaizumi’s family cornering Oikawa every other minute, but the fact that  _ he  _ wasn’t there hadn’t hit Oikawa until he was back in the kitchen, the glass bottle of some random beer or cider he’d plucked from the pile in the fridge, sitting cold against his palm. He hadn’t been paying attention at first, but the noises and voices grew louder, and when he heard the shrill squawk from Satomi combined with Aiko’s, Oikawa was forced to peek around the doorframe and see what all the fuss was about and settle his growing curiosity.  

He’d regretted it the moment he had. Regretted the amount of food he’d eaten at the party as his stomach decided to start to churn, a wave of nausea hitting Oikawa like a sudden tsunami of anxiety and emotion. 

It was Iwaizumi.  _ His Iwaizumi.  _

Oikawa’s pulse was too busy, too loud thumping in his ears for him to really hear, let alone follow along with what Iwaizumi and his family were saying. But there he was, wrapped in his mother’s arms, followed by his sister’s before greeting Onzai and his father. He looked  _ good. _ Somewhat scruffy, but beautiful. Oikawa spied the large hiking bag laying off to the side in the genkan, the same awful khaki colour Oikawa vividly remembers, and it hits him. Iwaizumi hadn’t been here at the party because he hadn’t been home, he’d been too busy living his life and travelling, and only bothered to return for his sister’s wedding. Arriving with only less than a day before the ceremony too. 

There was a small pang in Oikawa’s heart amongst the constant uneasiness, this was his fault, he was the one who pushed Iwaizumi to do this. It wasn’t just himself Oikawa had made Iwaizumi leave, abandon, it had been everyone; his friends, his family. It was a fact Oikawa had already known in the back of his mind, but the truth and guilt still stung. 

Even scruffy and shaggy, Iwaizumi looked gorgeous. Or maybe that was purely from just not having set eyes on the man in the flesh for so long but no, that wasn’t it at all. Iwaizumi had always been gorgeous to Oikawa, his mind could make up all the excuses it wanted, but that’s all they’d be, excuses. Oikawa had no idea where Iwaizumi had been, how long he’d been there, but from his appearance alone Oikawa could guess it was probably some far off mountain in the outskirts of some tiny city or country. Iwaizumi had always had a beautiful tan complexion, but right now he stood like a glowing bronze statue, the sun having been good to him, wherever he’d been. His usually dark spiky hair was longer, more shaggy and a lot more choppy, a few stray strands falling down across his forehead and over his eyes, the sight was so unsettling, so  _ different.  _ Oikawa almost wouldn’t have recognised Iwaizumi, the unshaven, overgrown stubble lining his jaw certainly didn’t help, but no matter how long it’d been, no matter what he looked like, Oikawa was sure he’d always recognise Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa hadn’t been staring, nothing of the sort, but the utter chill, more close to a shock of lightning running down his spine when Iwaizumi looked passed his family and the few guests occupying the hallway, and met Oikawa’s eyes for a brief moment, until Aiko drew his attention back to her and her fiance, had Oikawa frozen in place, stomach trying to decide whether it should flip-flop and peace right out, or burst into a swarm of butterflies and other creepy crawlies.  Luckily Oikawa didn’t have to decide as Iwaizumi was soon ushered into the lounge and out of sight, and Oikawa finally felt like he could breathe again. 

After taking a slow, deep swig of his drink, Oikawa exhaled a long sigh and placed the bottle by the sink as he passes, making his way towards the back door. It’s exactly the same as he remembers, so he shimmies and gently shakes the sliding door just the right way and it opens with ease, all those years of sneaking in and out of Iwaizumi’s house had Oikawa memorising every little detail about what doors and windows were loose, or which he could jimmie open without a sound.

The night air is cool against his face and neck and Oikawa breathes it in as he closes the door behind him, hoping no one decides to follow him out. It’s quieter outside, but it’s the opposite of what he wants, what he thinks he needs. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, but it definitely beats being in the same room, the same house as Iwaizumi. He can’t do that right now, and truthfully he still has no idea how to face him tomorrow. Oikawa walks to the far left corner of the garden, hoping and praying that there’s still a panel in the fence between their backyards loose. He counts the panels as he goes, letting his fingers trail over the rough wooden surface, and right enough, it’s the fourth last panel that he skims his hand over that gives out under the weight. He’s not as slim as he was back in high school, he’s grown and it’s a tight squeeze, but Oikawa manages to push through the gap between the fence, leaning back against another more sturdy panel and exhaling another deep sigh that he’s gotten used to doing whenever he thinks about Iwaizumi. 

Tomorrow is going to be a challenge, and part of Oikawa regrets even coming, but it’s too late to back out now. He decides to sleep on it, providing the dread that’s currently swallowing him up doesn’t eat him alive and prevent him from sleeping that is. Tomorrow is another day, and maybe it’s just the one where he’s finally ready to face Iwaizumi again. 

His own house is quiet when he enters through the back door, his parents obviously still lounging and enjoying the company next door for another while or so. He vaguely wonders if anyone has noticed he’s missing yet, but decides not to dwell on it. Oikawa begins to unwind and relax in the silent ambience of his old home. It’s late, nearing eleven at night, and he’s tired, can feel the heaviness behind his eyes from the long day and his lengthy drive back to Miyagi. All the food and alcohol - thankfully not enough to have Oikawa reeling - hadn’t helped either, and while he did enjoy the party sans Iwaizumi’s arrival, Oikawa hadn’t planned for his evening to be monopolised by his neighbours and ex-boyfriend’s family. But right now he craved the old, familiar comfiness of his futon upstairs in his room.

After ditching his shoes at the back door, Oikawa took slow, careful footsteps through the house, watching his every step as he walked down dark and empty hallways, the only light illuminating his way coming from street lights outside, graciously shining in through the windows on the front of the house. He should have just turned the lights on, but in his sleepy and sullen mood all Oikawa wants to do was crawl beneath his bedsheets. The stairs creak under his weight as he climbs, every step making a memory of his youth flood back into his mind. All the years he spent with a master plan of where to step to avoid the loud creaks and crack as he snuck back into the house after breaking curfew, or the time he slipped on the carpet covered steps in his socks and bruised his tailbone when he was just a child. All the times he had raced Iwaizumi up these very stairs as children, and even as teenagers. How Iwaizumi would always warn him to be careful so he wouldn’t slip and injure his knee further. How Iwaizumi would catch Oikawa when he wasn’t being careful so he  _ couldn’t  _ injure his knee further. 

Oikawa didn’t even bother washing up before bed, his long day coupled with his turbulent thoughts weighing heavily on his mind. He barely even took a moment to find comfort and solace in his old bedroom. His parent’s had left it mostly the same, which should have been comforting but it too was filled with memories of sleepovers, and long nights spent “studying” when in fact Oikawa may have spent a little too much time just looking, watching Iwaizumi. Today had been a challenge, and he’d successfully endured it, as much as escaping the situation at hand was considered a success, but tomorrow was the real test, one that Oikawa knew he couldn’t fail. He’d say ‘fuck it’ and push himself to his breaking point if need be, and if he chickened out, well, he’d have two friends to push him instead.

But as things stood right now, Oikawa would let sleep claim him as he lay in his futon - his mother having prepared for him earlier thankfully - and mindlessly counted the endless constellations stuck to his ceiling, the patterns swirling over the surface. He remembered how they used to glow at one stage, bright and neon, filling his room with an eerie atmosphere, but like a few things in his life, the stars had now burned out, leaving only a memory of their true potential. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Find me on twitter [@tatsu_nome](https://twitter.com/tatsu_nome) and [@tatsuhiro-nome](http://tatsuhiro-nome.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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